Random musings from a "rabid" reader. The title comes from my admiration of John Updike and his Rabbit Angstrom series.When I read a review of a book I have not read, I only read enough to get a general idea of the content. If it sounds interesting, I make a note of the review, read the book, and only then do I go back and read the review completely. I intend these short musings to convey that spirit and idea to the readers of "RabbitReader."
--Chiron

Monday, May 20, 2013

When it comes to books and reading, I am definitely a hunter/gatherer.My sustenance comes from these activities,
but every once in a while, I bag a trophy – the best are first novels by young
writers.The Fever Tree by Jennifer McVeigh is the latest in a long line of
trophies I have collected.

Francis Irvine is the only child of a prosperous business
man in London.His deceased wife was a
member of the wealthy Hamilton family, who disowned her when she married the
Irish Mr. Irvine against their wishes.Mr. Irvine began a furniture business and did quite well, but he lost
all is money in the Panic of 1873.He
had borrowed and invested in The Northern Pacific Railway which went bankrupt
due to poor management.He died leaving
Francis penniless and without any family, save a cousin in Manchester, who
agreed to take Francis in as a governess to her children.However, there was an alternative.

Dr. Matthews, three years older than Francis, was heading
out to Kimberly in South Africa to begin a medical practice.From an early age, he had a crush on Francis,
so he proposed marriage to her father and he agreed.However, Francis was a city girl, and thought
of moving to Africa did not appeal to her at all.Faced with the squalid life her cousin
offered her, she decided to accept Matthews and move to Kimberley.

After all her father’s property was sold at auction, she had
barely enough money for steamer passage.She had to give up all her finery, and she set out for a rendezvous with
a fate she bitterly decried.She made
friends with two other immigrants – also poor and penniless.A handsome stranger is also on the ship, and he
charms Francis, who promptly falls deeply in love.She hopes Mr. Westbrook can rescue her from what
she perceives as an awful marriage.

McVeigh has accurately captured the sounds and sights and
characters of the 19th century.In this passage, Francis has been summoned by her mother’s brother.She hopes her uncle will take her into his
house.McVeigh writes, “Francis caught
sight of herself in the gold-crested mirror over the fireplace.She regretted standing up.Her uncle would take it as a sign of bad
breeding.Beneath the eagle with his
wings unfurling, the dark, convex glass threw a distorted impression back at
her.Sparks of red hair swirled away
from her in dense curls, and the narrow, angular lines of her face warped so
that her mouth twisted with bitterness.Her Irish blood was too visible for her uncle’s liking, reminding him of
everything her mother had given away, and she wondered whether he would be
happy never to see her again, ‘So—you won’t have me?’” (33).

I have always had a soft spot for red-haired women and 19th
century women writers.Now I have a soft
spot for Francis Irvine. Jennifer McVeigh’s The
Fever Tree is a delightful read, but caution: she departs from traditional
19th century literature in a few explicit scenes of “you know what.”
5 stars

Sunday, May 19, 2013

A common exercise in a creative
writing class has students take a fairy tale and re-write it in poetic
form.The exercise is challenging, but I
thoroughly enjoyable.Jeanine Hall
Gailey’s third book of poetry, Unexplained
Fevers, helps the heroes and heroines step out of the towers and oppressive
households.She uses these poems as
allegories for the problems facing many people today.Gailey is the Poet laureate of Redmond, Washington.I was pleased to discover this collection is
a serious read.

As we all know, the original
Grimm’s Fairy Tales were rather dark, but they all had deep symbolic meaning. Here is a sample of Gailey’s work: “I Like the
Quiet: Rapunzel”:“Solitude my solace, wrapped
around me

like layers of golden hair.Stacks of books

and I can sing as loud as I please all day and night.

I sleep I kick and snore, during the day, delight

in eating nothing but
radishes and lime leaf tea.

Who says I need a partner to dance?Here

in this tower I am mistress of all; the
reindeer,

the knight’s armor teetering in the corner,

various discarded
disguises, crowns,

crumbs and bones. Will you rescue me?

What kingdom will
replace my bounty

of leisure, what tether of care and nurture

do you wish
to rope my neck with?” (12).

Another poem, “Advice Left
Between the Pages of Grimm’s Fairy Tales,” ties a few fairy tales together:

“Life is not a fairy tale,
and this isn’t your pumpkin coach.

You’re not lost in some magic wood,

and
that blood on your hands isn’t from an innocent stag

at all.Princess, remember to fill your pockets

with more than bread crumbs, and

if you can’t sleep don’t blame the legumes

beneath the sheets.One look at that
glass coffin

they’ve set up for you should tell you

everything you need to
know about their intentions.

Remember a lot of girls end up dismembered, and

every briar rose has its thorn. / Forget the sword and magic stone,

forget
the enchantment and focus on the profit margin,

the hard line.Read the subtext” (60).

The final poem in the
collection, “At the End,” reminds the reader of the darker side of fairy tales:

“At the end of our story, we
roll along

with the prince’s procession,

or wake up to a castle filled with
friends,

their eyes, too, puckering at the light.

It never occurs to us to
flee our fates.

After all, we cannot sleep forever,

it’s not our role; we
merely rest until we’re touched –

or jostled – awake by the right man or
moment.How can we lament what we’ve missed,

asleep in glass coffins and
briar-thorn prisons?

We’ve noticed no change, not the way

the citizens seem
to glare at us as we pass

or the price of apples. The guns men carry

now
under their coats.Even the carts

seem
sleeker, prepared to bustle us into the future" ... (68)

These poems grab our memories
of childhood tales and bring us into the reality of life today.You will find yourself going back over these
pieces again, and again.5 stars

I first encountered James
Salter in an October 28, 1990 profile in The
New York Times Magazine.The article
quoted Salter, “Somewhere the ancient clerks, amid stacks of faint interest to
them, are sorting literary reputations.The work goes on endlessly and without haste.There are names passed over and names
revered, names of heroes and of those long thought to be, names of every sort
and level of importance.”The Times then asked, “Where will the
tireless clerks file the name James Salter?”

With such an intriguing
introduction, how could I not
investigate farther?I started with
Salter’s 1988 PEN/Faulkner Award-winning collection, Dusk: And Other Stories.I
was immediately captivated and added several more of his books to my
shelves.The PEN/Faulkner Award is
America’s most prestigious literary prize.As numerous critics have said, Salter is a “writer’s writer.”Noted critic, James Walcott dubbed him our
“most underrated writer.I could not
agree more.

The Times reported
Salter was born in New York City and attended the Horace Mann School in
Riverdale.His father had graduated
first in his class at West Point in 1918, and Salter became a cadet.Upon graduation, he joined the Army Air
Corps.He served in Korea, where he shot
down one MIG and damaged another.His
experiences as a fighter pilot became the inspiration for one of his early
stories, “A Single Daring Act.”After
achieving the rank of major, he abruptly resigned to devote his full efforts to
writing.In 1956, he had his first novel
published, The Hunter.He also spent some time as a
screenwriter.His writing credits
include the cult film “Downhill Racer.”

His latest work, All That Is, carries this reputation
forward.This is his first novel since
1979.Poetic and literary, Salter
chronicles the life of Philip Bowman.The novel opens with Midshipman Bowman on a carrier under attack by the
Japanese in the days before the invasion of Okinawa.After the war, he returns to America and
becomes a book editor.

The novel has an intricate
web of characters who come in and out of Bowman’s life.Despite his frightening experiences in the
Pacific, Bowman seems obsessed with water and conquering lingering fears.Swimming figures in a number of his
relationships.He attracts, beautiful,
wealthy women, but he seems unable to hold onto them – they slip through his
fingers line a handful of water.

In an epigram in All That Is, James Salter writes, “There
comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and only those things
preserved in writing have any possibility of being real.”A writer’s writer indeed!No more quotes, I want you to experience this
outstanding writer entirely on your own.I believe his reputation will endure.